The imperious command met with no resistance. Felicitas, half-fearful, half-curious, drew nearer and felt her hand seized by one as if in fever.
"Why do you tremble?" asked Johanna. "You ought to be glad, for now I am in your power, as much as you are in mine. You are afraid to meet the eyes of the Crucified, but look well. Do you know who has eyes like those?"
"No," said Felicitas.
"And you pretend to love him! Oh, you dissembler! Now, listen, either your mind is pure and clear as gold, like the blood that flows from those wounds, and I have been deceived in you; or it is an abysmal sink of iniquity beyond my capacity to measure in this life."
"The truth is about halfway between the two," thought Felicitas.
"But we will leave that. If you desire that our enmity shall be over from this hour, you will not refuse to take the oath I require of you."
"It won't be so awful," thought Felicitas, and with downcast eyes she replied--
"I am not afraid of any oath."
"Then kneel down."
"Why, where?" asked Felicitas, nervously.